


as the earth stood still, we moved

by dinosuns



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Developing Relationship, Galaxy Garrison, Healing, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Season/Series 06, everyone is a bit enamoured with keith, this is very soft and subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/dinosuns
Summary: Time is not a friend who grants many gifts it won’t pry away later, and space is just as unforgiving as it is unbelievable. But god, they deserve this.War is coming, and their return to earth brings many revelations.





	as the earth stood still, we moved

**Author's Note:**

> a little something before season 7 drops! this is very open and more a collection of vignettes to paint one picture - hope you enjoy. 
> 
> be careful, as there are mentions of mild 7.01 spoilers ahead!

“I don’t know about this, Shiro.”

In front of the mirror, Keith grapples with his suit for the fourth time. There’s a frown cut deep into his pursed lips, twisting at the corners as he tilts his head a fraction. It’s not even a formal suit, simply their standard paladin armour. Still, Keith’s eyes rake over his appearance cautiously, slowly, as if looking for something that isn’t there and never will be there. Then with a huff, he fiddles with the collar of his suit. Shiro watches from the corner, realises he’s looking for a problem to tackle, a fight to win. But Keith’s already won, he’s come so far and for some reason he just can’t see it.

“What do you mean?” Shiro asks gently, leaning over to fix the crumpled collar Keith has inadvertently made a mess of. Their hands pass each other, Keith’s are trembling. Folding his arms across his chest, Keith sighs. The sound is steeped in the kind of uncertainty Shiro doesn’t expect, not after the way Keith has been steering the team with natural fluency.

Then again, this is different. They’re not drifting through space anymore. It’s been six days since the lions landed on earth, making themselves known to the human race outside of the galaxy garrison’s perimeter. Allura prepared a fantastic and inspiring speech, delivering it to the world via a live broadcast. Since then, the paladins have been working alongside the garrison in preparation for the inevitable war heading their way. Coming to earth had always been fundamental, but it’s also riddled with risks nobody has the luxury to ignore. Considering the state of the universe, it’s a miracle the earth has been left to blissful ignorance for this long.

“It should be you out there,” Keith admits. It’s not self-depreciative, just an open statement. Shiro expects no less. “I don’t even remember their names.”

Neither does Shiro, but it’s not about that at all. There’s something else slithering up Keith’s spine and locking him into place, something else that has all of him hinged on an imminent defeat rather than victory. Out of all the places they’ve been, all the dark terrible corners of space they’ve found themselves in, nowhere but earth has rendered this restless immoveable self-conscious nature from him. The shift in Keith’s disposition is subtle enough for a passerby, but colossal to Shiro. It’s an unpleasant thing to watch. And in truth, Shiro isn’t sure how to make it better or if he can. He ventures for encouragement, empathy. That always seemed to work in their favour. Besides, Shiro understands this better than most people.

“Do you remember how things were before kerberos?” Shiro clenches his fist, eyes cast down. “Everyone thought I couldn’t do it, some people even wanted me to fail.”

“But you didn’t,” Keith says hastily and the sheer conviction of it is earth-shattering. If Shiro listens hard enough, ‘pilot error’ is burnt to oblivion between every syllable.

“Or you,” with a smile, Shiro clasps his shoulder.  “So go and prove it to them.”

* * *

Keith does prove it to them, not that he ever had anything to prove.

In contrast to Allura’s words, he is far from diplomatic, nowhere near refined. But that raw, fiery energy works in his favour entirely in this context. He doesn’t sugarcoat what he’s saying for the sake of false pretences, or worse, false hope. Every word is brutally honest, the syllables flit between the bite of a bullet and the sharp cut of a blade, and it’s all wrapped up inside a relentless unforgiving storm. Wide-eyed, the cadets stand to attention. Even from this distance, Shiro can see the trepidation in their postures, the slight quiver of their hands.

They’re frightened. And this isn’t the kind of thing you can soften without putting yourself and others in danger. Because the things out there in the depths of space, the things that plague any promise of peace - they’re so very real and they’re coming. There’s no easy way to swallow that down, or prepare for it without understanding the threats. But that doesn’t mean it’s hopeless, or that the strength of a heart can’t triumph in the darkest hour; the scar on Keith’s face is testament to that.

It’s the scar put there by Shiro’s hands. And as for his own scar, he’s not so sure what it means anymore. Not until he looks to Keith, hears that grounding voice, does the rising panic subside a fraction.  

The lingering lackluster from before has withered away in the group he’s talking to. From the moment Keith took his first step towards the group, threw his first hand gesture, the sheer intensity of it sparked wildfires within each and every one of them and dispelled morning grogginess. Shiro sees it too, how completely compelling and dynamic he is to watch, how his voice cleaves into skin and resonates deep into bone, and he wonders if Keith even knows. The cadets’ eyes are wide, but they’re full of a compulsion to listen and learn, teeming with it. Their hands are shaking, but their fists clench hard and their heads dip low in resolve as Keith speaks.

It’s not just fear they’re experiencing, it’s awe.

Keith is inspiring. He is the product of endurance and determination, with the honour of something old and ancient, forgotten and weathered by time. Keith is proof that good souls who choose to never bow to the forces pushing against them survive. Never yielding, they survive and they ensure others do too.  

As his speech comes to a close, met with a few avid bursts of spluttering applause that have Keith blinking slow in surprise, Shiro realises he’s read this whole thing wrong. Of course they’re inspired, but it’s suddenly he's aware of the undertone. The awkward rigid postures start to make a little more sense as he catches the flushed complexions, pairs it with the gaping gormless expressions. And when the first cadet hastily calls out for Keith when he turns away, far too forlorn and desperate, it becomes a very relatable and understandable situation.

Keith has not just captured their attention, but also their hearts.

As Shiro scans the group, even from this distance, he can see it plain as the sun in the sky. They’re all completely enamoured with Keith. This infatuation, it’s blossomed throughout the handful of minutes Keith has spent in their presence. It’s too late to fight it now, the fever his passion evokes. Keith glances over to Shiro then and it’s startling, as if uncertain and searching for something. It takes a moment to regather himself, but Shiro gives a thumbs up and flashes a grin. He’s infinitely proud, of course he is. And Keith should know it, he deserves to know how good he’s done, the brewing puppy love encircling him aside.

That seems to appease Keith, who does something very dangerous next. It’s such a simple gesture, but one Shiro will never take for granted. Keith doesn’t even know how powerful it is, it’s as mighty as any blade on the battlefield.

Keith smiles. It’s subtle and understated, almost shy in a way that doesn’t fit the conviction of his usual actions.

Nobody stands a chance.

* * *

“I think you might have scared them a little back there,” Shiro jokes a few hours later, in the black lion’s cockpit.

Despite being offered rooms at the garrison, with more than adequate living arrangements, Keith is reluctant to accept. He uses the showers, eats the food, then makes his way back here with a quiet kind of diligence that Shiro is afraid to press too hard on. Years later, he still doesn’t have the whole picture of Keith’s time in the desert.

But he saw enough that day he fell from the sky, he heard enough in those words. Keith’s eyes had been eclipsed in something so agonising, no amount of hard blinks could transform it into a mirage, and nothing could shake that terrible unforgiving tightness in his throat. It’s not difficult to piece together what happened once the news spread of the Kerberos mission’s failure.

The garrison isn’t welcoming to Keith, no matter how much people change their tune, the grief that made its name here cages him. This is a haunted, unholy ground, and it leaves a heaviness in Keith’s steps as he walks through the hallways, his shadow stretches thin and hollow across the walls. Now, in the black lion, the restlessness subsides a fraction, Keith’s eyes aren’t so vacant.

Quirking a brow, Keith purses his lips. He’s perched against the pilot seat, arms folded.

“Better me than what’s headed their way,” is offered after a moment of intense quiet that doesn’t catch the way it should. It reveals everything Keith is trying to evade voicing; he’s worried for them. Shiro sits up, chases after those eyes. It’s like they’re in a high-speed chase whipping up sand all over again, only this time it stings and neither are prepared to make the final jump. They meet slowly, and Shiro falls into it further than planned. But it’s always been that way with Keith, always will be.

“They’ll be okay, Keith.”

“Will they?” Keith asks, eyes narrowed and a sharp contrast to how unsteady his voice sounds. It’s the catalyst to unravelling the tension that’s been corked inside him the entire walk back. “We barely held Sendak off the first time. And that was with cool robot lions and a magical castle.”

It would be in poor taste to linger on how endearing ‘cool robot lions’ is given the current context, so Shiro files that away for later. His hand comes to rest on Keith’s shoulder, tugging him from the thoughts gnawing away inside of him.

“But we still beat him, and we’ll do it again.”

With a gentle squeeze, Shiro musters his kindest smile. He remembers the way Keith looked over to him after delivering his speech, the momentary crumbling resolve vanishing in an instant with the encouragement. His thumb juts out, rubbing into Keith’s arm. It’s an unconscious action that happens as natural and fast as breathing. Keith’s gaze snaps towards it in mild disbelief, as if committing every movement to memory. Maybe it’s cowardly, but the lack of eye contact gives Shiro a little more courage with his words.

“I don’t think there’s anyone here more capable of making sure that happens than you.” _It’s always been you, Keith._

Keith hums in what could be agreement, could be something else, head ducked enough to mask how his lips wear that sound. From the rasp breaking it open, Shiro supposes they’re pursed tight. They fall into a comfortable but empty quiet after that, and emptier dreams.

* * *

It’s barely sunrise, and Shiro wakes to find Keith nowhere in sight. But he soon discovers the black lion isn’t empty. Familiar eyes soften, offer a smile in his direction from a seat nearby. Shiro sits up, abruptly exposed in ways he isn’t sure he can escape. Making a good and lasting impression on Krolia has been something he’s barely had time to think about between recuperating. He wants this to be a relationship that will work without feeling strained, that will ensure together they can prioritise Keith’s happiness. Krolia leans down to help Shiro to his feet, Even now, his limbs can grow a little stiff after long periods of stasis, and it satiates his concerns with actions rather than words. Sometimes, he’s caught completely off-guard by the striking semblance between Keith and his mother.

“They were waiting for him,” Krolia explains, gesturing outside, as if knowing exactly what is on Shiro’s mind. There’s soft amusement in her eyes, mixed with pride. “He’s gotten quite popular.”

Peering through the glass of the cockpit, Shiro glimpses a curious sight. Keith is stood talking a few paces from the lion, arms folded. He’s surrounded by a group of cadets, some former classmates and others Shiro doesn’t recognise by face alone. They’re crowded a little closer than strictly necessary, but Keith seems unfazed, a lazy slow smile burns over his face like the brightening horizon behind him as he speaks.

Wisps of conversation come into focus the closer to Shiro gets. It’s difficult to make out individual voices, for the most part they’re talking over each other. Words butt heads awkwardly to try and get the spotlight. Krolia’s amusement becomes suddenly more palpable. Questions fire rapidly and Keith answers with admirable and endearingly blunt honesty. His voice is raw and hoarse from the morning, and Shiro suspects that might have something to do with the group’s desire to keep this conversation going no matter how quickly it deteriorates. He can’t blame them, really.  

“Can I see the blade again?”

“Heh, sure.” Shiro bites down a grin at that low voice, the buoyancy is lighter than he’s heard it since they landed here. As it makes it down to the final step, he catches the flick of the blade. It’s a needlessly flashy move, far more self-indulgent than Keith has ever been. If it were anyone else, they’d be blatantly showing off at this point. But it’s with enviable grace and sincerity that Keith demonstrates, and that makes it even more remarkable.  

“Woah! How does it change like that?”

They’re openly fascinated, openly curious. It makes sense they’d be keen to know everything from someone who’s experienced the war firsthand. Shiro’s honestly relieved. Keith may not ever voice it, never admit that this kind of positive reaction from his peers is everything he might not have yearned for beyond mutual acceptance, but it’s desperately needed right now.

It’s also everything he always deserved.

“You saved Shiro, didn’t you?”

That gearchange has Shiro freezing, incapable of moving. Instantly, he can tell it’s too personal from the way Keith’s words cut short. But he doesn’t let anybody take responsibility for that besides himself. Averting his gaze, Keith hums absently. The sound is caught in a chasm of melancholy, difficult to ignore. It beckons Shiro to make himself known, step forwards. He doesn’t. Because there are things they have yet to discuss, yet to process. And it’s hardly the time or place to do that. These kind of things merit no audience, no prying eyes. Just them.

Shiro lingers on the steps, not wanting to invade the scene and disrupt this. Behind his eyelids, hazy memories that aren’t truly his flicker into existence. With it comes agonising desperation, Keith on the floor, pushing up with his blade against a mighty force and begging, _pleading-_

“We saved each other,” is what Keith settles for. Shiro opens his eyes, watches carefully.  

“Takashi Shirogane is such an inspiration, a real hero,” one girl gushes with enthusiasm, barely waiting a beat before Keith gives his answer. The curious probing seems to have quickly digressed into a teenage press conference. All eyes lock onto Keith, anxiously clinging to his every word. Chewing his lip, Keith considers something for a moment.

“It’s more than that,” he parts with, pensive in a way that feels misplaced in this moment.

Nobody pries, nobody pushes. Rather, they wait with patience Shiro can’t possibly entertain. He almost trips over the bottom step in anticipation. Keith’s words matter, they always have.

“He’s human,” Keith explains as if that should explain absolutely everything he is trying to articulate. And somehow it really does - succinct and concise but cut in the most precise, perfect of ways. Shiro blinks back the moisture in his eyes, chokes on a building sob that catches hot and tight.

Keith and the group make their way to the garrison, conversation growing further out of reach as they walk. Just one word remains here, haunting Shiro in the best of ways.   

_Human._

* * *

Iverson calls a meeting that afternoon. The room is familiar in ways Shiro no longer has any attachment to. Once upon a time, he sat here whilst they debated his viability for kerberos. Now he’s back here, with Keith by his side. They’re both reshaped and moulded by the cruel hands of space, but they’re both better for it. Sometimes Shiro thinks he’s stronger for it, too. Keith shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, inevitably can feel all eyes locked onto him. Takashi Shirogane’s return is one thing, but he had always been painted as their golden boy on the outside, all whilst becoming their greatest bitter tragedy.

Keith’s sparkle never quite caught their eyes, and it never will despite it being the rarest of its kind. He’s shrouded in mystery, but unlike with the cadets there’s no intrigue amongst these people to chase it up. He’s something elusive and misunderstood, he’s also responsible for wrecking the simulator before disappearing into the desert, then breaking into their top secret facility on a rescue mission. Needless to say, there’s a lot of baggage here.

Fortunately, the garrison can see the irrelevance of holding it against Keith in a time like this. They have bigger priorities. But that doesn’t mean they’re forgiving, it doesn’t mean they try to make things easy for him. Keith, revered and respected by his former classmates, is met with something unspeakably bitter and unfair by the older instructors. It reminds Shiro of the woman at the school, the way her lips curled at mention of Keith, willing to overlook the fact he had been the best talent there by far because of his circumstances, because of her own judgements.

Part of what lingers in this room is jealousy, part of its ignorance. Shiro doesn’t care to know exact quantities of each, it’s ugly and it makes the blood beneath his skin burn - he only cares for Keith being comfortable. Right now, he is not. His eyes are trained ahead, not quite on Iverson. There’s a twitch in his lips, one that indicates he’s holding back a wince.

In fact, he’s holding back a lot. They make it through ten minutes of the meeting, and Keith still has yet to say a word. He sits rigid, his outline growing harder with each passing second as if forged from steel. It’s not until Iverson brings up the cadets, his former classmates, that Keith finally reacts. And a colossal dam breaks, throwing the entire room into anarchy. 

“You can’t do that!”

Shiro’s hand grips his trousers tight, he sees Keith moving out of his peripheral. With enough force to knock the chair back behind him, Keith stands and slams a hand on the table. Iverson looks up from his papers, and he’s a second too late hiding his surprise at what he’s greeted by. The murmurs of staff around them grow less and less hushed. Keith’s voice cuts through no problem, draws the whole room back into apprehensive silence. There’s a lightning bolt crease down his forehead, splitting his face into hot molten rock that will not be moved. And then there’s his eyes, burning embers engulfing whatever is foolish enough to stand in his path.  

“If you send them out there like this, they’re not gonna make it. You don’t know what you’re up against! This isn’t some weekend drill.”

“I’m aware of that,” Iverson says, somehow remarkably composed. “But Shirogane said it himself, the lions of Voltron aren't going to be enough to protect us from these threats. Are you questioning his judgement?”

It’s a low blow, tying his name to side without asking. But that’s the point, the whole purpose of this. Shiro glances between Keith and Iverson, teeth grit. To step in now, even to offer a rebuttal, would undermine Keith in the way most people in the room are yearning to see. He’s the most honest, humble and honourable person here, yet the interests of the people around is more geared towards taking him down a peg rather than listening. That’s the consequence of being laced in gold, built between the stars. People don’t just want to break you, they want to feel the pieces of that cosmic dust crushed between their fingers.  

“No,” Keith takes a breath, head held high and Shiro is infinitely proud. “Just yours.”  

That has Iverson standing, moving from his place behind the desk to face Keith in the centre of the room. Hands clasped behind his back, Iverson stares him down. Keith is unfazed.

“You think a dropout such as yourself can waltz in here and tell me how to run my own operation?”  

The bait is placed; again, Keith is unfazed. He refuses to take it or rise to the words, and it’s admirable. Because he understands the bigger picture, always has. Nothing about this is personal, and to make it so simply wastes time they don’t have. Tilting his head, Keith leans an inch closer, speaks soft and low. There’s a dwindling intensity in his eyes that is somehow more compelling than the inferno that came before. Around him, Shiro catches a few instructors craning forwards to hear better. Curiosity is too tempting to indulge. But the words are lost to all but Iverson, who frowns a little harder. Then, one unthinkable gesture changes everything.

He salutes.

* * *

The garrison proposal goes ahead, but within five hours Keith secures Voltron not just access to all information but the authority for him to personally oversee the training of his former peers. He insists upon it, and doesn’t yield. Every agenda is fought and struck down like an opponent on the battlefield. Shiro doesn’t doubt Keith would find a way to work with them in secret if he had to. There’s a determined fierce glint in his eyes, one that nobody can tame. And the intensity of the storm that kicks at his heels with each step is unstoppable. Powerful. Keith is rooted in action, but that makes him unexpectedly impressive with negotiations in ways he doesn’t seem to realise.  

Convincing the garrison to let Shiro pilot the kerberos mission took weeks, and the involvement of a senior officer. Keith has nothing but the things he fiercely believes in, and his blunt honesty.

“Sure you don’t want to join me?” Keith asks, shrugging off his jacket with a roll of his shoulders Shiro trails after closer than strictly necessary.

It’s exposing, leaves Keith in the dark undersuit of the paladin armour. The material is sleek and fitting around muscle, cutting off midway at the neck, and suddenly it’s a very dangerous situation. Shiro already knows this is going to raise the stakes for everybody in his presence. Quirking a brow, Keith’s eyes snap over to him. Shiro almost jumps, spilling a messy concoction of words.

“I - I - I’m sure. It’s fine! Just call me if you need me for anything,” his smile is unhinged by the way Keith’s lips twitch in poorly stifled amusement. Keith might just know something he shouldn’t, but if he does it’s kept private. “It’s kind of nice to sit back and watch for once.”  

With Keith in that suit, it most certainly is. As he turns, Shiro pointedly keeps his gaze to the sky like a true gentleman. But he doesn’t miss the light swish of Keith’s hips in his peripheral, the way Keith looks over his shoulder and grins in a way that would destroy empires. The worst part is sometimes he realises how to use that power now. Oh dear.

Taking a seat, Shiro watches the session begin. Beneath his skin is burning, yearning to join Keith. Sparring is a good release, and nobody is as dynamic and satisfying to spar with as Keith. Now with more years under his belt, more experience, it’s bound to be interesting. Exciting. The blade of marmora has enhanced Keith’s fighting style into something truly beautiful. It’s breathtaking, fluid and sharp all in one cut. Keith has worked hard, and cultivated his own unique flare that works entirely in his advantage. His agility, his unbreakable focus, the passionate strength behind every move - it’s all weaved into the fight.

Not one of his former peers can land a strike.

At one point, three try at once. One comes a little close, but Keith spins and successfully has them pinned in seconds. Shiro hears the quiet gasps from even here, and it’s definitely not from shock or fear. The heat of the sun beating down is relentless, and Shiro can only imagine from this distance the small bead of sweat dripping down Keith’s face, matting his hair to his face. Keith offers a hand to his former classmate, seemingly unfazed and oblivious to the chaos he’s started - a jarring contrast to the way he grinned over his shoulder earlier. The hand is taken far too eagerly, almost resulting in the cadet slamming right into Keith’s chest. Shiro bites down the laughter slithering up his spine, warmth filling him as he watches the scene unfold.

“He’s sure something,” a voice from another life says by his ear, and it shakes Shiro to the core.

It’s been years since their final conversation, since they parted ways. And of course, a reunion was always going to be a possibility. Gaze not leaving Keith, Shiro regathers himself as best he can. But it’s proving difficult. Keith looks over at them, holds himself far steadier than Shiro feels right now. The expression is unreadable from this far away, and suddenly the space between them is expanding in ways it never did in space. Shiro hitches a desperate breath, then Keith tears his attention back to the group. It’s agonising.

“He is.”

Questions swirl on his tongue, ebbing in and out of reach. Shiro steels himself and looks to Adam, it’s surprisingly underwhelming. Adam offers a smile, polite and professional in all the ways it never used to be. His demeanour is distant as if approaching a stranger, yet it’s not unkind.

At first it stings, the reminder of what they once had together. It’s now an echo lost to the stars, scattered at their feet. But that was a choice he made, and one he would make again. Shiro often considered how this conversation would go the closer they got to home, what they would talk about if the chance came. Maybe there would be no reconciliation, no further closure - just an awkward stumble through smalltalk neither navigated smoothly.

Of all things,  Shiro hadn’t factored in the fact that maybe the unspoken things would resonate louder and leave them in subdued silence. Because sometimes, there’s simply nothing left to say. Words are idle here, have no real meaning. Instead they share the acknowledgement of a bittersweet memory, full of highs and sprinkled with lows - not a regret, just a shared experience.

It’s comforting in the strangest of ways, until Keith’s commands bark out from the field. And Shiro can’t pretend to ignore there’s a little more bite there than before. He feels it between his bones, already knows where that heat is directed.

Shiro doesn’t realise he’s sitting alone again until the session is over and he dares to look over his shoulder, greeted by nothing but the orange sun setting on the horizon and the echoes of his younger years.

When he glances back towards the group, Keith is gone.

* * *

“I didn’t expect to find you up here, I thought you’d be back at the lion.” Shiro shuts the door behind him, walking across the roof. The sky is sprinkled with stars, nightfall bringing with it a rare lapse in the garrison’s operations. As Shiro walks to Keith, his footsteps ring loud and intrusive to the silence. But Keith doesn’t seem to mind the disruption, gaze locked ahead.

“It’s quiet,” Keith offers, eyes stubbornly fixed the horizon. “Always has been.” There’s a pointed pause, and the rasp has his voice cracking around the edges. “No matter what.”

The implication is impossible to ignore. This is a place even back at the garrison he and Keith seldom retreated to. But that doesn’t mean Keith didn’t find himself out here after their time here, before he buried himself in pillars of sand. It’s a painful thought, difficult to digest.

“Oh,” Shiro manages. His exclamation sounds as flat and hopeless as his insides feel, honestly. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “You did good today, Keith.”

Of all things, Keith flinches at the words. It’s a reaction out of place, until he speaks firmly and strained.

“They’re not ready, Shiro.” _It’s not about me_ , Shiro hears between the concerned outburst.

“Is anyone?” Shiro asks gently - _were we?_ \- a poignant smile curling on his lips. His attempts at encouragement are swept aside, biting pragmatism seizes Keith by the shoulders, shakes every honourable and protective instinct he has into being.  

“I - just…” raking a hand through his hair, Keith hisses. Abruptly, he jerks his head up. With a hard blink, the flames wither into something a little too close to dejection. “Sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologise buddy.” _Buddy._

It’s supposed to be fond, supportive. Beneath the stars, shoulder to shoulder, it seems horribly unfitting and meagre. Something twists in Keith, as if he can’t physically take this stilted conversation going nowhere any longer. Narrowing his eyes, he pinches his lips into a tight line that is hard to miss.

“You and Adam straighten things up?”

It’s not only a terrible way of phrasing it, it’s also a terrible assumption to make. Shiro recalls the way their eyes met earlier, how unspeakably strange it felt. Unfamiliar, like their story was dissolving to sand between his fingers. And it confirms too much, makes this thing between them a little too real.

“We... talked.”

Barely. Two sentences hardly counts.

Keith hums to himself, arms becoming more of a shield. He curls into himself a fraction, and Shiro’s heart aches. It forces him to take the reigns, steer them a little bit in the right direction. There’s no time to dance around nervous uncertainty, remembering that jagged distance from earlier is terrifying. Under no circumstances can that sensation return, not with Keith.  

“There wasn’t much to straighten out, things are different now. We’ve both changed.”

“Oh,” Keith says, and he sounds like he’s trying too hard not to be relieved.

But Keith’s always been a book far more readable than he realises, covered in dust few people care to brush aside. A ragged drags from his lips, he forces out a weak mangled “okay” between his teeth. The sound is gutting, as if he’s choking on something that is far too tangible. Shiro feels it in his own ribs, rising sharp and without reserve. That settles it, has Shiro leaning forward and diving into something he hasn’t remotely prepared himself for. They’ve never spoken about it, never dared breach the subject. But Shiro can’t lose him here, can’t let Keith be swallowed by things he’s not saying.

“-Keith, I remember and I agree,” is what Shiro blurts out.

The tone is too serious for the unfortunate clumsy sentence it wraps around. That definitely makes no sense and definitely isn’t the right way to say ‘I love you _god_ _I love you too_ ’. There’s no way Keith can’t know what Shiro is trying to say, what he is failing to articulate so spectacularly. Eyes wide, Keith stares at him. It’s not an expectant expression, it’s hopeful and on the precipice of shattering. He’s heard it, Keith still hears it. But the confirmation doesn’t clear the air, only muddies it further between them.

“I mean, I- Keith…”

A pitiful noise halfway between a laugh and a whine escapes Keith’s lips. He’s exasperated but it’s laced in fondness that makes this a little less terrible. Shiro can relate to that.

“ _Come on,_ Shiro. What are we waiting for?”

The question throws them suddenly into new territory, and there’s nowhere to dodge because Keith is right here and he’s willing and ready. It’s never been more clear. The night sky gives his skin a glow that’s close to ethereal, nestles deep into his eyes. Shiro sees many constellations there, and right now they’re all gravitating towards him as if set in orbit. There’s no way Keith isn’t asking what he’s asking. It’s carved into his bones as if part of his very foundations.   

“I…” Shiro looks out to the stars, heart pounding between his ears. This is really happening and Keith is really doing this. Here and now. There’s no turning back from this, and that’s not frightening anymore. It’s fulfilling. With a breathless laugh of his own, Shiro leans against the railings. They’ll fall together. “I don’t know.”

“I’d wait a lifetime,” Keith admits, so earnestly and unashamed it’s absolutely staggering. _Forever, my whole life,_ goes unsaid. Nudging Shiro with his shoulder, Keith moves to stand closer. His eyes trail across the horizon, mapping out their old race path. “But I think we’ve waited long enough.”

Shiro looks up to the stars, across echoes of the universe they’ve travelled. Time is not a friend who grants many gifts it won’t pry away later, and space is just as unforgiving as it is unbelievable. Many battles face them ahead, many hardships and uncertainties. But every story has its kinder pages, corners where the light is strong enough to turn entire chapters to gold. They deserve this, they’ve laughed and cried, fought and died for this. Reaching over, Shiro clasps Keith’s hand and squeezes hard.  

“I think you’re right.”


End file.
